


A Very Special Day

by Mask



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood, Crossdressing, Cutting, Erections, Masochism, Mirrors, Other, Self-Harm, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mask/pseuds/Mask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pariston Hill was very in touch with his fashionable side. Whether or not it was "fashionable" to other people was debatable – and irrelevant! One day, he has something of a craving to try something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Special Day

**Author's Note:**

> For [smuttyhiki](http://smuttyhiki.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

Pariston always had a flair for the dramatics – in the way he worked, in the way he talked, and even, perhaps most importantly, in the way he dressed. He was known for his eclectic, gaudy styles and loved the attention they drew. Whether or not he actually enjoyed it himself was always up in the air.

Today, his mind went down familiar avenues as he looked for something nice to wear for the day. He had called in a personal day, already having dealt with business several days ago. His fingers traced over glimmering blazers, checker patterned dress shirts, and an assortment of ties he barely remembered purchasing. He chuckled at his reflection as he held various outfits up against his chest. A smirk played on his lips as he shrugged on a blazer. He smoothed a hand over his tie, flattening it against his bare chest as he stared in the mirror.

… He needed to go shopping.

His wardrobe was fine, but it wasn't good enough for _today_. No, he was in a much better mood for something else. He tapped his index finger against his lips thoughtfully. Oh, but what should he wear to satisfy his need? He removed the prospective garments and tossed them onto his bed. He stood naked in the mirror, turning his body this way and that as he examined his nude form. His hands cupped the soft cheeks of his backside. The blond hummed thoughtfully and pulled his fingers away, spreading himself until his grip went slack.

Pariston rubbed his hands together as he turned away. Aah! He had an idea of what to wear, and it only supported the thought that he _had_ to go shopping. He turned towards his bed to just throw something on. He couldn't just pick a suit, so he cut loose! A little mixing, a little matching, and he was all set for a few-hours-out on the town.

The city looked magnificent; there was a nice balance of foot and road traffic. The bustle made everything look so alive on this wonderful day. The weather was perfect for long sleeve layers, maybe even a parasol for those who fancied it. He brought a hand over his eyes as his taxi headed down the street. He laughed to himself and pressed his hand against the roof above his seat. Aah, yes. It was an absolutely perfect day to get what he wanted. The taxi soon arrived at his destination, and Pariston was eager to get out and into the world. He was generous with his tip before he stepped out of the cab. He slammed the door shut behind him and waited until the taxi passed before he could cross the street.

Moda Bella: a fancy, trendy fashion store on the corner of "Too Expensive" and "Just a Fad". Usually, Pariston avoided price gouging retail stores, but today, he felt he would treat himself to something, hopefully, nice.

The double doors slid open the second he was close enough. A wave of cold air blasted against his skin, and he was greeted with some atmospheric rock music. Pariston paused to listen. Not too aggressive in its melody, and the singer had a pleasant tone. The singing flowed into Pariston's mind like a lullaby and kept him relaxed as he walked through the store. Pariston had to give Moda Bella props. It knew how to sell itself.

He took long strides towards the escalator and checked the signs for what he was looking for. Oof, did he remember his measurements? Would he have to get new ones done? Well, he could always ask an attendant for help. He laughed again, a hand placed on his stomach as he leaned back slightly. Okay, no. He would just guess if he needed to.

Though, he was thankful that he did, more than likely, forget his measurements. He was much more considerate as he browsed the various wares and touched over different garments. Silk and lace. Cutout cotton. Mesh. Halter tops. _Bustiers!_ He bit his lip to control his smile. There were so many choices to choose from. He could see movement in his peripheral vision. Two of the floor attendants watched him curiously, sometimes folding already neatly stacked clothing on the display shelves. He smiled to himself and turned towards one of the women. He smiled brightly and pressed a skimpy little number against his body. He charmed her with a joke. She laughed and turned away in embarrassment. Pariston nabbed a few clothes from the final sale racks and three others that he liked. When he left, he was amused by the amount of jenny he had spent.

He touched the inside of the bag and wondered what would go nicely with his purchases. The blond tapped his tongue against his teeth, mulling over his thoughts with idle interest. Oh. Oh, he had an idea. The blond smiled brightly as he strode over towards the makeup and accessories. He grinned and politely greeted the attendants there. “Oh, one of those, please!” “What would go well with this shade?” “I'm open to colour choices! Do your worst.” When he was handed two more bags after his transaction, he gave a slight bow and took the escalator back down. He called for a cab on his descent and saw it waiting for him when he crossed the automated threshold.

Back at his loft, Pariston toed off his shoes in the foyer, locked up, and headed upstairs with a jolly little hum. Five new outfits just for him to try. He couldn't wear them out – not without raising a few brows or causing some scandals anyway. Then again, he was always fond of making a splash. As he imagined the headlines, Pariston set the bags down on his bed. His thoughts redirected back to the items he had purchased that were dying to be adored. Oh, now this would be fun. He emptied out the bags and laid them out on his bedspread neatly. His fingers smoothed over the different textures, relishing the fact that these would soon be on his body. But first! He had to undress, and he so happily did so.

Pariston peeled off the clothing with a grin on his face and his laugh filling the air. When he was nude, he reached up and combed his fingers through his blond hair, manipulating the flaxen locks into his hold. He pulled up the black wig with his free hand and tugged it over his head. It took him a minute to fix everything properly onto his head, and when he turned to face the mirror, the look in his eyes could only be properly categorised as predatory. The black of the wig brought out the paleness in his skin. His fingers threaded through the locks, untangling them and admiring their softness. It was worth the 50-or-so he dropped on it. He hummed to himself. Pariston reached up and grasped the hair in both hands, tugging it into one manageable bunch over one shoulder. He turned back around and headed to the bed. Now which of these pretties would he try on first?

Pariston decided that he didn't want to try on all of them in one go, so he had to pick what he would wear right now. His skin tingled at the idea of making himself wait. He blindly chose from the lingerie sets and put the rest away in his drawers. He shut a drawer and gave the dresser a fond pat before he backed away. He headed to the bed, set the bags on the floor, and turned his attention to the chosen lingerie. He uncurled the designer lace teddy and let his gaze linger on it for just a moment. Ah. The closet. He headed over with a bit of a bounce in his step and selected one of the more subdued coats that he owned. A cream double breasted jacket with tulle around the hem. It was given to him as a joke. It was so delicate, so frilly. “Because you'll just wear anything!” the gift-giver had said. He smiled and mentally thanked them. He wouldn't just wear _anything,_ but he would wear _this_.

Pariston crossed back to his bed and laid the jacket down. He was quick to dress in his lingerie, and without turning to admire himself in the mirror, he donned the jacket as well. Pariston sighed and flicked the black hair behind his back, untucking it from the jacket. He held the jacket closed with crossed arms and stared down at himself. His legs were completely bare, and he didn't mind that. It was a shame he didn't have any shoes to match, however. He made a mental note to fix that later.

He spun around slowly and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He was so pale, and the jacket was only flushing him out more. Those curved lips would have looked perfect with some shade of pink, he thought. There was makeup in one of his bags, but he didn't want to play around with it just now. This was just… a test run, one could say. A shift of legs, tightening of things, and he decided to pull open the jacket.

He took his own breath away.

The blond laughed at his own stunned expression, liking how his eyes squinted with the action. He glanced down at himself and then back up at his reflection. He didn't regret his purchase at all, no. The lingerie was teal with diamond white as an accent. He ran his fingers over the garment – a beautiful blend of lace and colour. The straps fit snug over his broad shoulders; the deep plunge of the teddy exposed his breast bone and navel perfectly. A band ran across the middle, just above the navel, and was secured with a white ribbon. He touched over it gently. It looked so nice. The underwear cupped him generously. He could feel the V-strings loop over his hips and tuck down between his soft cheeks. Even the scars on his inner thighs complimented his outfit totally. He moved a leg to the side, appreciating the criss-crossing marks over his thighs. He drew in a deep breath through his nose.

The blond exhaled and took a step back. He was amazed by the sight. He raked up his reflection's form and then back down again before he could meet his own gaze. After a long while of silent appraisals (and various changes in poses), Pariston locked eyes with his image and laughed breathlessly. He turned away. The temptation to button up his jacket and head out again was too strong, and he almost listened to it. But again! This was a test run; there was no reason to get ahead of himself.

He moved over to his bedside table and planned his next few moves. He opened the drawer and picked through the inner contents until he found a rosewood box inside. He didn't waste a moment in drawing it out. The drawer was shut with a quickness, and Pariston maneuvered back to the edge of his bed, just in front of his mirror. This wasn't quite how he intended to spend his day, but he wasn't complaining. Not at all.

He flicked the jacket behind his back and dragged the black hair over his left shoulder. He watched himself move, eyes darting and focusing on different spots until he stilled again. His fingers traced over the scars on his thighs. The bumps underneath his fingertips made his heart race. He spread his legs wider and flicked open the box with his free hand. He removed the trapezoidal blade and turned it over his fingers slowly. He admired the way the blade caught the light. He placed his right hand on his thigh. The blade went to the same leg. He adjusted himself slightly, wanting to see the cut in the mirror as well. A press and then down. He gasped as the first cut was made. His cock jumped against the nylon.

He worked slowly, avoiding old cuts at first. The cuts deepened as he made his way down his leg. Shallow at the thigh and eagerly bleeding just above the knee. Pariston bit down on the inside of his cheek, sharply sucking in a breath through his nose. The laugh echoed deep in his chest as he brought his gaze up. Blood stained his pale skin, bleeding onto his sheets underneath. He wasn't too worried about the stains. He knew how long he would have to lift them out with some degree of success. This wasn't his first sensory rodeo, and this private moment hammered in the fact that this wouldn't be his last.

He shifted with a jolt. The cuts widened unpleasantly when he moved his legs. He smirked at himself and turned his attention down again. He stroked over the bumpy scar tissue near his groin. He had played it too closely on this side. One particular night when he was feeling drunk and foolish, he took out his blades for some fun. Aah, he learned a lot about himself then.

The pattern repeated. Shallow to deep cuts. Sharp inhales and throaty laughs. His poor cock trapped beneath the nylon — and he wasn't in the mood to give himself relief. The arousal made him dizzy but not disorientated. The overload of sensations was heady and addictive. He placed his blade to the side and lifted up his hands in the air. The slap rang through the air and was closely followed by his pained groan. His thighs jostled with the intense twin slaps; more blood was coaxed out from the cuts. Pariston curled his nails against his thighs and shuddered bodily as he dragged his nails from his knees to his loins. He bit down hard on his cheek when his nail accidentally scraped one of the cuts. He opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and saw blood. He let out a controlled exhale.

And that was enough.

He pulled himself up onto his feet and headed to the bathroom. He stared down at himself, watching as the blood rushed down his legs and coiled around his ankles. He needed to clean up, and the burn of the peroxide would be a delightful pain all on its own. He let out a contented sigh and swept his hair over his back. When he entered the bathroom, he pulled the jacket from his shoulders and hung it up on the back of the door. He turned towards the counter and stopped, seeing himself again. He gave one more once over and smiled cheekily, shoulder shrugging up before he focused on finding his medical supplies.

Perhaps when he was done cleaning, he would continue his game out on the street. He was sure there was someone who might appreciate it, but they would have to be careful. He was wearing designer brand.


End file.
